


what are words for

by estrella30



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: First Time, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-12
Updated: 2013-11-12
Packaged: 2018-01-01 06:23:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1041399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/estrella30/pseuds/estrella30
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>five voices Nick hears Harry using and the time he realizes Harry's using a voice just for Nick. or something. it's a five times fic about Harry's voice basically.</p>
            </blockquote>





	what are words for

**Author's Note:**

> This is based entirely on a tumblr rant I had about Harry having a voice he uses just with Nick and someone suggesting I fic it so here it is! Thanks for the idea whoever you are!
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks to MRSRONWEASLEY for the beta and britpick! 
> 
> any remaining mistakes are entirely my own.

_\--one--_

 

Harry’s voice is deeper in person than Nick had expected. 

He’d seen him on the telly of course, but when Nick meets him Harry’s smaller than he’d seemed on the screen; thinner and lankier and definitely younger. His voice is deep and smooth though, and his fingers longer than Nick would have guessed when they curl around Nick’s own as they shake hands. 

“Nick Grimshaw,” Harry says, the edges of his mouth curved up in a cheeky grin. Nick’s not surprised half the country’s fallen in love with him already. “‘S’a pleasure to meet you.”

Nick smiles and tightens his grip. 

They spend the rest of the night meeting up on and off, exchanging pleasantries and bits of random conversation. Nick doesn’t think much about it except for how every time he turns around he realizes he’s looking for Harry and wondering where he is. Harry’s never too far, always standing just outside of Nick’s circle, and whenever Nick catches his eye Harry smiles back, ducks his head and lets the curls fall over his eyes. 

Well then.

By the time Nick leaves that night he’s got Harry Styles’ number programmed into his mobile and the lingering feel of Harry’s mouth pressed in close to Nick’s ear. 

“I’ll ring you sometime; maybe we’ll go out shopping or for a bite to eat.”

The idea is nice and the lilt of Harry’s tone had sent a shiver zipping down Nick’s spine. Not that it matters though. Nick’s quite certain Harry will never even text, and he’s fine with that, really.

It was nice meeting Harry no matter what.

_\--two--_

The first time Harry spends the night at Nick’s it’s after too many fancy cocktails that were foamy and green and had little slices of heart-shaped melon floating around in them. Nick’s known Harry long enough to be aware of his appreciation of a good melon, but had never witnessed quite so much fruit in alcohol in all of his life. 

The number of things he’s learnt in the time he’s been Harry’s friend is staggering. 

They share a cab home and stumble down the steps to Nick’s flat, giggling drunkenly, Harry hanging off Nick’s back like an intoxicated half-blind monkey. His hands are patting at Nick’s chest and back and the top of his head and Nick finally gets the door open; shoves Harry inside and follows him in while Harry trips and falls over his own two feet. 

“That was rude!” Harry says and points to the left of Nick’s shoulder. 

Nick looks behind him and pretends to be searching for someone. “Who are you talking to, H?”

“You,” Harry slurs. He tries to straighten his feet and takes a few crooked steps to the side. He points again - once up at the ceiling, then down toward the floor, then more in Nick’s direction, his finger spinning in a drunken circle - “Wherever the fuck you are.”

“Oi, Christ, come with me,” Nick says. He’s trying to sound stern, like he’s in charge, but Harry’s laughing again, cheeks flushed and head tipped back exposing the long, pale line of his throat. His skin is pink and his eyes are glittering and the sound of his laugh fills Nick’s flat, rings through the air and makes Nick feel happy and fond and warm all at once. 

“Come on, popstar,” Nick says sternly, taking Harry by the arm and guiding him down the hall. “To bed with you.” He’s not quite sure how stern he comes across by the way Harry’s laughing at him, but no matter, Nick’s got him in bed and sleeping which is the important thing.

Nick wakes in the morning to Harry poking him in the chest from the other side of Nick’s bed. The sun is blinding through the curtains and Harry’s eyes are still crinkled at the edges from sleep. He’s got his shirt off, necklaces dangling from the dip of his chest, one of his legs tossed over Nick’s under the covers. 

“Morning,” Harry says, and his voice is soft and thick. He clears his throat and something deep in Nick’s belly tightens. He closes his eyes again and looks away. 

“You want me to make us some coffee?” Harry asks, and Nick says yes, that’d be great thanks, and doesn’t breathe again until Harry’s climbed out of his bed and wandered down the hall. 

_\--three--_

Harry’s on tour and it sucks. 

It’s too many days of getting nothing but texts, too much time spent trying to remember where Harry is in the world and then decipher the time difference between them. Nick will see something and ring Harry only to realize Harry’s on stage somewhere on the other side of the earth, and then Harry will ring him back but it’ll go right to voicemail because Nick’s got his mobile turned off to sleep or for the show. 

It’s shit, basically. Complete and utter crap.

_Are you around?? xx_

Nick fumbles with his mobile and grins when he sees the text from Harry. It’s just gone eleven at night and Nick had been planning on heading to sleep but he sits straight up in bed, shoving the pillows around to make himself more comfortable in case Harry wants to chat. 

_Why, do you have a break in your super busy popstar schedule?_

Instead of texting back Harry rings him. Nick answers the call to the sound of Harry’s voice saying, “Ha ha ha. Very funny, Nick Grimshaw,” and it might be tinny and thin, his voice coming across weaker over the miles between them, but it’s Harry and he’s there and it’s something. A bad connection with Harry is better than no connection at all. 

“I _am_ really funny, aren’t I?” Nick says, and leans back, letting the sound of Harry’s voice against his ear lull him to sleep.

_\--four--_

Harry’s been home for about a week when it happens. 

It’s nothing big, nothing Nick would have even maybe noticed before, but this is them now. This thing between them hasn’t gone away. If anything it’s got stronger the longer they’ve known each other, like every time Harry leaves and then comes back to Nick, it makes it that much harder to break the bond. Nick’s not even sure what it means, only that it means _something_ , so when he hears Harry lying to him he won’t have it. 

“No, really, Haz,” Nick repeats. “What’s wrong?”

“Just tired,” Harry says again with a shrug. “Tour’s been mad and we’re recording on top of it and--”

“Don’t do that,” Nick interrupts. 

Harry looks up from where he’s been shredding sugar packets at the table. They’re tucked into the back corner of Nick’s favorite cafe, two empty cups of coffee and a plate full of biscuit crumbs between them. Harry’s eyes narrow, the space between his eyebrows pinched together and Nick thinks not for the first time: _there. I want to kiss you right there_.

“Don’t do what?”

“Don’t lie to me,” Nick says flatly. Harry opens his mouth to argue but Nick doesn’t let him. “Don’t tell me that it’s nothing or that you’re tired or over-worked. I’m sure you are all of those things but save the stock answers for the next block of interviews you’ve got to do.” 

He levels his gaze on Harry, makes sure Harry’s not looking away when he adds, “It’s me, Haz. Don’t give me some bullshit. Tell me what’s wrong.”

It doesn’t take long; Harry nods, breathes out and tells Nick everything that’s on his mind, all the real things that are bothering him. Things about his job and the band and his family and being away from home. Things Nick isn’t sure Harry’s even admitted out loud to himself, let alone told anyone else. 

Halfway through, Harry’s hand finds Nick’s under the table and he holds on. Nick doesn’t mention it, he doesn’t bring it up then or after they’ve left, empty coffee cups stacked up and the napkins folded together on top of the plate of crumbs, but he remembers the feel of Harry’s hand in his. The weight and press of his thumb against Nick’s wrist. The way Nick’s stomach flopped and how his breath caught just from the soft curve of Harry’s fingers. 

_\--five--_

Nick didn’t ever think they could get here, is the thing. 

It had been so long that he figured he and Harry just weren’t going to do that. They were mates and they were going to stay mates and they were always going to be mates and if that’s all it ever was going to be Nick would have been perfectly fine with that because he loves Harry, he always has. If Harry had never loved Nick back in any way other than his best friend Nick would still have been luckier than most, so this - this is a _lot_.

Harry’s under him on Nick’s sofa, his leg curled around the back of Nick’s calf dragging him in closer, rucking Nick up higher against him. Harry’s hands are on Nick’s back, slipping up under the hem of his shirt and his mouth is wide and wet, hot where he kisses Nick on the corner of his mouth and the bottom edge of his jaw. 

Nick closes his eyes and drops his head. The droop of his quiff hangs over and brushes against Harry’s forehead. He presses his fingertips into the dip of Harry’s collarbones and watches the skin go from white with pressure and then bloom into hot pink in the shapes of the pads of his fingers. 

He ruts down against Harry’s thigh, feels Harry’s breath skitter against Nick’s neck, and when Nick kisses him he swallows the sound of Harry saying his name over and over, damp and wet against his skin. 

“Nick,” Harry breathes. He tilts his head and blinks his eyes open and Nick’s breath catches hard in his chest. “Nick. _Nick_.”

Nick’s heard Harry’s voice a thousand different times in a thousand different ways, but he’s never heard it quite like this.

_\--now--_

They’re late, again, and Nick can’t even blame Harry this time since Harry had rung him ten minutes earlier telling Nick he was waiting in the car because if he came inside Nick’s flat then they’de never make it to brunch. Nick knows he should have been more punctual but he’d not got much sleep with the drunken popstar snogging him in his bed last night and then waking him up with a cheeky blowjob before running off to shower and grab clothes from his own flat earlier in the morning. 

The air is crisp and clear. Nick can hear the stereo from Harry’s car blaring from the pavement and he turns his phone on, ready to catch his idiot boyfriend in action. 

When he gets to the car, Harry’s being as ridiculous as Nick had expected, dancing around and smiling, and Christ, that’s not even the best song on Bangerz and are they really going to have this argument _again_? Nick pauses the recording and opens the door all set to defend his choice of track when Harry turns down the volume, grinning as he says, “What’s happening?” and it’s like something in Nick clicks into place just from the tone of Harry’s voice. 

Because Nick’s heard Harry when he’s happy and sad and scared. He’s heard him dead tired or hyped up on far too much caffeine. He’s heard him missing home and happy to be home; from over the phone and on the telly and over radio and across the ocean on skype. He’s heard Harry drunk, sick, angry; breathless and kissing Nick’s mouth, and gasping for air when Nick fucks into him in the middle of Nick’s bed, but he’ll never ever get over hearing Harry be _just Harry_ saying hello to _just Nick_. 

No matter how much time passes or where Harry goes or what he does and sees, this is Nick’s. No one else gets this part of him. This is just for them. 

Nick loves him so much he’s stupid with it.

“Are you going to stand there all day or are you going to get in?” Harry says. “Come on; let’s go.”

He’s chewing on a piece of gum and pulls some papers off the passenger seat for Nick to sit down. Nick ducks his head and smiles. He climbs into the car and Harry leans over and smacks a kiss against Nick’s cheek. Nick kisses him back and closes the door behind him and Harry drives off .

 

-end-


End file.
